When A Lamb Goes Wrong
by greatescape626
Summary: Dawn Bellwether is in prison, feeling sorry for herself and is being laughed at by her inmates. She wants to write a book by using computer technology only the warden forbidden her from using the computer, by community justice system rules. She's not even allowed to use a typewriter. But they gave her a pencil and eraser. What is her story? We don't really care like the warden.


This is what it is like, when a lamb goes wrong. I am sitting in the prison cafeteria as my fellow immates are playing with my wool and I swat their paws away, they laugh and snicker as I pick up my tray and head towards the trash can. It's hard being me. All I can think repeatively in my mind of those slick and tricky cops who out smarted me. They ruined my mastermind crime in being someone in order to control and stay in power. The power over the predators where pray out rule them all.

If I had back up syrup I would have succeeded, in making him savage in order to kill that helpless rabbit who thinks' she's so good at being a cop. She's not a real cop, and helping others is a rediculous reason for being one. But I have to admit I took advantage of her, which is classic in order to gain her acceptance of friendship, in order when the time is just right to frame the fox for a murder he didn't do. When I really killed the rabbit and he had been executed for no reason.

I wanted to kill the fox in order to gain back what I deserve in respect. He had sold Mayor Lionheart that mug he had given me, which really says, "The worlds greatest Dad" originally. But Mayor Lionheart tried to make it nice by scribbling out greatest dad, and replaced it with greatest secretary. Only he doesn't mean it by the way he gets my last name wrong. I hate it when he calls me "Smellwether."

I have told him multiple times, it's Bellwether, not Smellwether. And I hate it when predators touch my wool. It makes me uncomfortable. That's another reason I wanted to kill the fox, for touching my wool including the rabbit. She touched it as well. As usual I am revered as the lowest of the animals, who seem so fragile, innocent, and completely overwhelmed with the packets of work we have to do. I had my revenge at least on Lionheart he was too busy with the work he was doing, he wasn't even paying attention to the mob discrimination I have lead. I framed him on purpose for calling me Smellwether and for that stupid mug, never giving me the time off, and he overworks me with all those stupid binders which have his responsibility all over it.

It didn't take long for me to slip on a banana peel in the cafeteria, left behind by one of the gorillas.

"Sorry woolly," the gorilla says as he walks out of the cafeteria munching on the banana. I am writing my story and I will make it shine. Even if it doesn't sell for a million bucks. I then head out of the cafeteria trying to ignore the other inmates who are pointing and laughing at the banana peel stuck underneath my right foot. What I could've done better is quit my job and not lose my head over the overpiling of work.

But I was mad for power, I wanted Mayor Lionheart's job as badly as he did. And we shouldn't have helped him win that stupid sheep vote.

I walk to the warden's office. I know she's in charge, a very sweet porkchop that is. I see her behind her desk, writing on the computer. She even writes novels on her spare time. I can see all of her success with books which are award winning. Geez I wish it were me. Why does she have to keep all her ammy's and other prizes she won for the english literature around? It must be good for her to be appreciated for her work.

I even can see the worse of it is, she is rewarded for being the best Park Ranger and pictures of her publicly speaking at a nature center on the awareness in respecting park laws and leaving camp fires unattended. I'd say she's like the rabbit in my perspective. The rabbit I hate.

She used to work as a prison guard here, but now is a warden. I never thought she'd end up as a jail warden and a writer. I take the risk and knock on her door, grabbing her attention away from the computer. She sees me. Smiles real genuine, as if she's happy to see me but beneath her skin she's angry at me. But it seems this time she is smiling, and has her eyes on me.

"What is it now wether?" She rolls her eyes, and thinks _like I care, I can't help but notice the banana peel underneath her right foot. I will focus on that instead, so she'll think I am paying attention to her._

"I would like an old typewriter," I speak up.

"For what?"

"To write."

"Write?"

"Yep. Write. I want to write about why I am here in prison and what I think of jail life."

"I'm sorry. I can't offer you a typewriter."

"Why?"

"They are outdated, but you could use this."

She hands me a pile of paper and a pencil. "It's against community jailhouse rules, don't give wether a chance at using typing technology or computer networking."

"Thanks for the paper. Can't wait for writing cramps," I gritted my own teeth. The door opens again. Only to reveal to be a small hamster and turtle coming in.

"Excuse me Ma'am Hamilton," the hamster is dressed in a prison guard and had a badge, "I have a new file for you to scan and place in the computer system. Someone robbed the pellet store and has just come in."

"Very well thanks, do you have the tax documents from the prison accountant yet for me?"

"No they haven't come in. They are very slow those accountants."

"They need to get in the groove and hurry, I am expected to pay those tax documents up in order to keep the inmates captive and organized within the justice system."

The accountants are sloths, just like in the DMV where I have taken my drivers license exam. Ugh! How painful was that? I felt like I could almost make a sloth go savage. I am seeing Warden Porkchop get up from her desk, crossing the room and opening the door, "You are dismissed wether, I am not going to be answering anymore of your question again, with wanting to use technology to write a story."

"I never asked to use technology, I only asked for a typewriter."

I got up and began carrying the heavy paper back to my cell with a freshly sharped pencil. Then I realized the pencil doesn't have an eraser on it, and there's no electric sharpener in my cell. I have to go back to the warden's office for a pencil sharpener and an eraser. It's frustrating you only get half of what you have and now you have to go back and get it. I walked back to the room where the warden is. I'm in luck the door is still unlocked, I burst it open only to find the warden isn't in the room. Where'd she go? I look around seeing her computer is left unattended. I think to myself, should I just do the right thing taking the eraser, and sharpner not worrying about the laptop of the wardens' left unattended. Or shall I go on her computer, hacking into the database entry and make myself a novel freshly typed and ready? Maybe I could possibly find a typewriter. There has to be one around here somewhere in this dang messy office. Nah, just go with a pencil and an eraser, sharpener. I found one on her desk it's a purple by hand sharpener, and an eraser. I will take those. I hear talking in the halls. I begin to exit. I close the door, only to see it's a couple of my inmates who share the same cell as me. Jesse and Woolly.

"Boss, what were you doing in the wardens office?"

"Grabbing a pencil sharpener, she had forgotten to give me one."

"Is that all?"

"Yep. Come on we have to go back to my cell."


End file.
